iSlay a Dragon
by poetryknight
Summary: Freddie has been reading fantasy novels... perhaps too much. Some Seddie.
1. Once Upon a Time

**It's been a looong time since I've written anything, but I guess now is as good a time as any to finally start on a project I've been meaning to write for some time now. I'm not sure how many chapters it will be, put my guess would be a lot. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly, nor would I lock them in a glass case in my basement. I swear. Gibby scares me. **

Chapter 1 – Once Upon a Time

(Freddie's POV)

Hey, I'm Freddie. You know, technical producer of iCarly? Maybe you've heard of it – which, if you're reading this I'm assuming you have, or maybe you just clicked the wrong button on your pearpod. In any case, I have a story to tell.

You might want to take a moment to find a seat, because this one is a little… unorthodox.

You see, I happen to enjoy this book series called The Warrior Chronicles. It's your typical mythical beasts, wizards and knights kind of fantasy book that Brad got me into. Well, when he first let me borrow the books, I spent practically every second of my free time reading them. I was even late to iCarly rehearsals a couple of times. I couldn't put the books down. I was even oblivious to Sam's constant stream of insults. (Carly said that Sam eventually got bored and gave up .Maybe I did have a problem.)

Anyway, I tell you all that to help you (maybe) make sense of what happened last week.

I was – you guessed it – reading the Warrior Chronicles. Book three, to be exact. Everything was fine, just me, my book, and a nice bowl of chowder.

Then my mom burst into my room.

"Freddie! I found those pills!" She exclaimed, with her signature look of worry draped across her face.

"What pills?" I asked, glancing up from my book for just a second. That second was enough.

"Finally! Your face has been buried in those books for two weeks!" she answered, furiously trying to open the pill bottle. "This is the first time I've seen your face in I don't know how long. Ah-ha!" she cried in victory as the lid popped off. She dumped a handful of the small green pills in her hand and continued.

"Take these."

"What are they?"

"The doctor said they will help you sleep."

"Mom, I don't need any help slee-" I didn't quits get to finish that thought as I was too busy having suspicious green pills jammed down my throat.

"There. Now you'll be out in no time!"

"Oh, mom, I really want to finish this –"

"Lights out!" And she wasn't lying. She flicked the lights out as she left, and a few seconds later I'm pretty sure I heard her flip the breaker. Sam and Carly are right –my mom is nuts.

I sighed and shut my book, setting it on the bed beside me. (I was afraid that if I tried to set it anywhere else, I would put it in my chowder – not good.) It wasn't long before the medicine kicked in; however, it might have been a bit too strong. The shadows in my room warped into recognizable figures of swords, monsters and…ham? Whatever. I knew something was wrong. I tried getting up but I was tangled in the sheets. The more I fought with them, the more trapped I became, until finally, I was falling.

I landed hard, but not on my floor. It was soft, and kind of itchy. But it smelled good. Kind of like…

"Grass?" I said, and sure enough I was in a field of knee-high grass. I slowly made my way to my feet, feeling the bruises and bumps welling up on my arms and knees. I looked around slowly, the sudden bright lights making it hard to see. And then my eyes adjusted.

"Where am I?"


	2. Terrible Songs on His Whatsit

Chapter 2: Terrible Songs on His Whatsit

(Freddie's POV)

This was insane. One minute I'm enjoying chowder, and the next I'm in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but grass. What was going on?

I couldn't see that standing there like an idiot would do any good, so I picked a direction and began walking. I thought the grass would go on forever, but I finally ran into a little dirt road, small ruts cutting parallel lines in the surrounding grass.

That's when I saw a very familiar figure walking my way.

"Spencer?" I murmured, because it certainly looked like Carly's goofy older brother, if not for the odd clothes he was wearing - poofy shirt and pants, tights, a funny hat with a feather sticking out of it. And to top it all off, he was carrying a funny-looking guitar and playing it rather badly.

"Spencer!" I called out. He stopped playing his instrument (thank goodness) and spun around wildly, I guess looking for whoever yelled at him. I began jogging toward him and continued trying to get his attention.

"Hey, Spence!" I was further away than I thought, and was getting out of breath when he saw me. He took one look at me, flung his odd guitar at my head, shouted "I'm just a person!" and ran. Well, he certainly ACTED like Spencer.

I would have given up trying to catch him if he didn't almost immediately get clotheslined by the only scarecrow within seeing distance. I caught up to him just as he was getting to his feet.

"I don't have any money!" He yelled, placing his hands out like I was about to attack him.

"You, uh, dropped your guitar thing." I said, handing the instrument to him. He Cautiously took it from me, then went back to his defensive stance.

"Thanks." He offered, narrowing his eyes at me in suspicion. I just rolled my eyes.

"Look, Spencer, I don't know what's going on, but-"

"Who's Spencer?" he asked. I stared at him blankly.

"YOU are."

"Nay. I am the one and only, Spenstril the Minstrel!" he exclaimed, strumming an out-of-tune chord on his… thing.

"Right… Anyway, where exactly are we?"

"Why, in the kingdom of Lastelet, strange wanderer! Now, who are you and be you a rapscallion?"

"My name is Freddie Benson, you know that, Spencer! So tell me where the heck 'Lastelet' is!" I just wanted some answers to this whole crazy mess, but this Spencer doppleganger wasn't making it easy.

"Be you a rapscallion?" he repeated.

"No! Just tell me!" I was getting frustrated, but judging from the look 'Spenstril' was giving me, that would get me nowhere. I sighed to calm myself and started again.

"Kind Minstrel, would you please tell me where I am?"

"I already did." He said, chuckling. "You're not from here are you?"

"Apparently not. Wait, whay aren't you talking funny anymore?"

"Oh, I only do that for fun." He laughed again then tussled my hair. "You're a strange little fellow."

"Look," I said, backing away from his hair-tangling hand. "I just want to get out of this place and back to my room." Spenstril's face lit up.

"Well, why didn't you say so? Come on, I'll take you into the city. I'm sure you can find a room there!"

"That's not what I meant!" I replied, but the minstrel was no longer listening, just prancing – yes, prancing – ahead and playing another terrible song on his whatsit. I had no choice but to follow.

And that's when things got REALLY weird.


	3. The Guy From the Book

**Chapter 3: The Guy From the Book**

(Freddie's POV)

So there I was, not sure if I was in a dream or some sleeping-pill induced coma or what, but trusting a Spencer look-alike in my quest to get back to normal. Yeah, not the best position to find yourself in.

The 'city' we finally arrived in was more of a tiny village straight out of the dark ages. It was like a renaissance fair, but with less smiling tourists and more chamber pots. The smell was nauseating. Spencer – er – Spenstril seemed rather happy about getting there so quickly and eagerly ushered me into what he described as "The Finest Tavern in all of Lastelet". I wasn't too excited.

Oddly enough, the place looked EXACTLY like the Groovy Smoothie, except all medieval-ish. The setup, from the tables to the counter, was just the same, and even the Barkeep was a double of T-Bo. Spenstril wandered up to the counter.

"I am Spenstril the Minstrel!" He announced, though no one in the tavern paid any attention. "And this young lad has lost his way home and requires a room!"

"No, I want to get to MY room." I corrected.

"He requires his room…wait, what?" Spenstril eyed me questioningly. The T-Bo look-alike just shrugged.

"You wanna buy some mutton?" he asked, holding up suspicious-looking meat skewered on a crooked stick.

"Not now, Tibo!" Spenstril answered, then looked down at me. "I thought you wanted a room."

"I do. I want MY room."

"And where is YOUR room?"

"Where it's always been –in Bushwell Plaza in Seattle.

"See-at-ul?" Spenstril sounded out. "Where be this mythical land?"

"Well, its… look, I don't know how to get back there, I just really need to get back!" Spenstril thought for a moment.

"Maybe you should see the wise man! He'll know how to get you there!" Finally, something that sounded like a step in the right direction. I quickly agreed, and we began to head for the door when Tibo stopped us.

"Hey!" he called out, and Spenstril and I looked back. "Aren't you that guy?" Tibo asked, pointing at me.

"What guy?" I asked, shooting Spenstril a nervous look. Tibo squinted his eyes, looking at me closer.

"Yeah, you're that guy alright. The one from the book. Here, I'll show ya." From out of nowhere he pulled a huge, dusty book and plopped it down on the counter. Spenstril and I cautiously made our way over while Tibo flipped through the pages.

"Aha!" he cried out, pointing at a picture in the book that, quite honestly, did look a lot like me. "There you are, the Blue Warrior."

"The Blue Warrior?" I asked.

"The Blue Warrior, of course!" Spenstril said excitedly. "Legend says that one day a warrior in blue will appear. He will defeat the Evil Wizard and his Dragon, save the Lost Princess, and return Lastelet to a state of peace!" he barely breathed as the words poured out of his mouth. I snickered.

"You really believe that?" Tibo and Spenstril looked at me seriously.. It was then that I realized that I was wearing a blue shirt. Oh no.

"I'm not the Blue Warrior."

"Of course you are!" Spenstril said, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me out the door. "Which means now we have two reasons to go see the wise man!"

I knew then, as I was reluctantly dragged out of the tavern and towards the unknown that this would not be over any time soon.


	4. The Blue Warrior

**Chapter 4: The Blue Warrior**

(Freddie's POV)

"Who is this 'Wise Man' anyway?" I asked Spenstril, kicking a clump of grass in front of me as we marched down a winding forest path. It reminded me of hunting for Bigfoot.

"Only the most wisest man ever!" Spenstril said with enthusiasm. He had spent most of the walk so far trying (and failing) to create what he called a 'timeless ballad about two intrepid heroes', but sounded more like a seal being punched by Jackson Colt.

"And what are we going to ask this guy?" I asked for the hundredth time, receiving the same goofy smile and vague answer.

"You'll see."

After another hour of walking, Spenstril suddenly took a turn off the path, in between two towering oak trees, their lower branches gnarled and tangled, as if the trees had grown arms and claws and were reaching out for us. We ducked under another oak, this one toppled over, caught in the branches of the surrounding trees. We crossed over a small brook, like something out of a storybook, babbling and crystal clear. Finally, we crested the next hill and a small hut could be seen, nestled in a pine grove.

Spencer boldly pranced down into the grove, and I cautiously followed. There was a stack of firewood outside the hut, a large rocking chair made out of knotted wood, and a multicolored quilt hanging from a pine branch. Beyond that was a fire pit, now full of burnt wood, surrounded by stones of all shapes, and several quartz crystals. The whole place smelled like a wood fire, but there was something else, some lingering smell in the background that I couldn't place.

Spenstril knocked hard on the door seven times. "Just wait til you meet him." Spenstril said, his excitement evident in his voice. "He'll like you."

A moment passed, and the sound of shuffling feet and clanging pots came from inside the small but sturdy structure. There was a clatter at the door as the tenant struggled to open his locks. The door opened.

The man was not what I expected. I guess I thought he would look like some ancient wizard, long, flowing beard and all. Instead, he was clean-shaven, with dark skin and a strong jaw. He was as tall as Spenstril, and looked to be in his mid-forties. The only thing I did have right was his outfit – loose-fitting robes, tied by a cloth belt about the waist with several pouches and bags dangling from it.

"Blue Warrior," Spenstril announced, though I had asked him a dozen times not to call me that. "This is the wise man, Fred Cranklin."

Of course it was.

"So you wish to return to your land, but you do not know where it is?" Fred asked, pouring us a glass of a scarlet-colored drink.

"Right." I answered, taking a sip. It tasted like berries and mint. "I was thinking you could help me."

"And he's the Blue Warrior!"

"No I'm not, Spenstril!" He stuck his tongue out at me.

Fred closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. It reminded me of what psychics do when they are about to tell you their fortune, acting as if a vision is coming to them. For some reason, I didn't think Fred was faking. His breathing was steady, and his face wasn't curled in concentration like he was forcing it. He was relaxed, letting the thoughts come to him, not resisting them, inviting them in.

Spenstril choked on a slice of nut bread he was eating, knocking Fred out his contemplation. Fred stared at him sternly.

"Sorry." Spenstril mumbled, already taking another bite.

"What did you see?" I asked.

Fred sighed heavily and folded his arms across his chest. "I have seen the fires of the east grow stronger. I have seen the marshland consuming the villages. I have seen pain and destruction, and defeat." His face was stone.

"That doesn't sound good." I gulped. He nodded and continued.

"I have also seen a blue light. This light brings color back. Cuts through the marshland. Snuffs out the fires." He went quiet for a moment, the only sound was Spenstril's noisy chewing as he tore through his nut bread. Fred stood and walked over to a tapestry that hung on one wall, covered in fantastic creatures – merpeople, sea monsters, giants, witches, all surrounding a huge, two-headed dragon and a tiny figure that stood atop it. On the very top of the tapestry, shining down, was a great blue light.

"It was told that this light would come to us from another land. That at the time the Trouble began, he would come, and many would help him." Fred turned back and looked at me, a gentle smile spread across his face.

"Oh, no." I protested. "No, no, no."

Fred gave a soft chuckle. "I believe so. You may be the answer we need."

"I knew it!" Spenstril shouted, jumping up to do a victory dance.

"I don't want to… to… snuff fires and all that. I just want to go home."

Fred's face turned to stone again. "Help us, and I will find a way to get you home." I was about to protest, but Spenstril covered my mouth.

"He'll do it!"

"I'm sure he will." Fred said, offering a smile. "Besides, it will take some time for my rituals to find this… what did you call it?"

"Seattle." I said, wrestling away from Spenstril, who giggled and started tuning his instrument thing.

"Seattle." Fred repeated. "Yes, and once I find it I must prepare the spell to send you there. I should be done in about…" he did some counting in his head. "Two months!"

"Two months?" I groaned.

"That should be plenty of time. Now, I suggest you head to the village of Amikay, just south of here. That is the first village the marshes will take, should they attack."

"How can a marsh attack?" I asked. Was everyone in this world crazy?

I was already being dragged out the door again before I could get an answer. Spenstril set to creating another song and appeared to know exactly where he was going. Did he really think that I was the blue spirit? How was I supposed to help them?

I let these thoughts bounce around in my head as I trudged through the forest behind the worst bard in history.


End file.
